


Zephyr

by ToodleBoog



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mech Preg, Mpreg, Spark Sexual Interfacing, Transformers Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2019-11-16 13:17:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18095030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToodleBoog/pseuds/ToodleBoog
Summary: Tailgate and cyclonus find themselves surprised, with a third! after an unruly string of events.





	1. 1

Cyclonus didn't know what to expect when he walked into his and Tailgates hab suite, an activity that he had done every day. Usually Tailgate would have been reading a data pad or looking out the window, waiting for him to return and join him. What he had found today however was Tailgate on his berth, hands in his chest, optics offline, playing with his spark. He hadn’t noticed that Cyclonus had even entered the hab suite, much less the little startled noise that had left Cyclonus when the wave of heat had hit him full blast upon opening the door. He silently shut the door and locked it, not wanting anyone else to unexpectedly open the door like he had, and besides, he wanted to see how long until Tailgate noticed his presence.

He silently walked around the room, grabbing the chair from the desk and putting it by his berth so he could watch. He and Tailgate had been conjunx endura for a while, and they both knew this. It almost made him laugh, why Tailgate hadn’t sought him put to help him handle this; considering the minibot’s love for affection, but then again he was sure that Tailgate knew that he had been busy and asking for a favor like this while Cyclonus was on shift would be inopportune. And so the minibot had taken matters into his own hands it seemed. Cyclonus felt a tug as the gravity in the room shifted, Tailgate’s spark interfering with the ships artificial generator in their particular hab suite, but for all Cyclonus knew it could have traveled to other hab suites as well. It a wonder why all the neighbors hadn’t complained. The tug was so great that Cyclonus started feeling like he was being pulled in.

He found himself slowly rising from the chair and found his chest plates partially transforming in response to his conjunx’s call. He put a hand on his chest and sat back down, ignoring the heady burn that was steadily rising behind his breastplates. He was blasted with a wave of heat from Tailgates spark and almost on instinct he expanded his em field, wanting some sort of contact. He quickly pulled it back before it brushed against Tailgate’s and he noticed how Tailgate was muttering something. He listened and he heard that Tailgate was quietly muttering his name over and over. He smiled.

Another gravity surge hit and Cyclonus actually did jolt out of his chair, ramming his hip against the berth and his spark chamber fully opened, shining red light into the blue of Tailgates. Tailgate’s optics immediately flashed online and in a moment of sheer panic he bolted upright and rammed his chest plates closed on his hands. Cyclonus muttered a curse and rubbed his hip where he had clipped it and looked surprisedly to Tailgate, who upon seeing that it was Cyclonus, loosened his chest plates a little and winced as he pulled his hands out.

“C-Cyclonus I can explain!” he stuttered, pulling his em field tight to his frame.

“No need.” Cyclonus responded. Tailgate noticed him rubbing his hip and saw that his spark chamber had opened.

“Oh Primus! Did I do that? I am so sorry! I didn't mean to-!” he was cut off with a soft rumble as Cyclonus pressed his em field up against him and was telling him reassuringly ‘i'm fine’. Heat hung heavily in the air as both of their spark chambers lay open but with nothing to do. Tailgate flared his em field out with a half explanation and embarrassment and Cyclonus responded with plucking him up off the bed and setting them both down by the window. The star’s light looked so good on Tailgate. Cyclonus set him down in his lap, the heat of their sparks together made the minibot gasp a little, and they hadn’t even merged yet.

“H-how much did you see?” Tailgate asked sheepishly, his voice stuttering because of the heat. Cyclonus leaned in close and pressed a kiss on his forehead before leaning into his audial and whispering 

“That depends; how much did you show?” 

Tailgate shivered. They let their em fields slide together and they both smiled  
Cyclonus wrapped his arms around Tailgates back and pressed the smaller mech’s spark chamber against his own. Tailgate immediately gasped and hooked his arms around Cyclonus, pulling him tight.

“Oh primus! Oh frag!” he yelled out. The heat from their sparks driving him mad. He could feel them leave their chamber’s and start to orbit around each other like two miniature stars dancing side by side. Cyclonus merely groaned and threw his head back, his horns clacking against the wall. They held each other tightly, the gravitational throw from their sparks merging threw them slightly back and forth, rattling their plating. Tailgate pressed his head against Cyclonus’ chest and sighed. 

Now there was one thing that not many people knew about spark merges; Once you’ve merged, you're stuck like that for a while. Which was perfectly fine by Cyclonus. He could spend literal decades physically bonded to his partner if tailgate wished, they were practically fused at the hip anyway. Cyclonus felt his chest pieces lock into place with Tailgate’s in a full body kiss and just like that they were merged. Both of their sparks fusing together. One spark, two processors. Everything they had ever done, seen or heard was now both of their experience. They were now one. A whole new being yet still the same. The first time they had done it Cyclonus almost forgot his own name it had been so unfamiliar. In a moments notice he hadn’t known who he was anymore as Tailgate lodged himself deep in his spark, or was it him who was in Tailgate’s? Didn't matter. He didn't care. He was happy.

They both sat like that for a while, entangled in each other’s being, just simply loving being so intimately entwined with the other.

Cyclonus tapped his nose against Tailgate’s face mask and he obliged, opening the little mouth port, which the warrior got to work at, kissing lazily as he held tailgate close . He felt a heat from Tailgate’s spark and he whined, holding the minibot closer.

All of a sudden there was a knock on the door, Cyclonus onlined optics that he didn't even know he turned off. He felt a tug on his chest plates around the rim of his spark chamber where his conjunx was attached. Tailgate had jolted, trying to seperate but with null luck, it would take a good while until their sparks separated. The knock at the door rapped again, with more vigor this time. Oh. That's right. Cyclonus had locked the door.

Cyclonus looked to Tailgate despite the fact that Tailgate already knew what he was thinking the moment he thought it. He nodded and Cyclonus placed an arm under his aft as the other hand went around to cradle his back. He stood up from the window and walked over to the door. As he reached out to hit the unlock button a voice rang out from the other side.

“Cyclonus and Tailgate unlock this door!”

It was Ultra Magnus. 

Without anymore warning he could hear the code being punched in on the other side and the door swiftly slid back, revealing a somewhat disgruntled Megatron and ultra magnus. Megatron looked away in embarrassment but ultra magnus hadn’t noticed yet.

“There have been reports of spark eaters outside on this side of the ship, i'm going to need you two to evacuate to the oil reserve until further notice.”

Tailgate’s visor lit up but the words came out of Cyclonus.

“Sparkeaters?! I thought we had gotten rid of them! I thought we had found a cure!”  
Megatron noticed that that had been meant to be said by Tailgate and he winced as Cyclonus made a small urk of surprise when he had finished talking. He had never been spoken through before. Ultra Magnus paused before answering, slightly confused at Cyclonus’ tone.

“Outside, as in on the ships hull. We need everyone to evacuate until we can capture and contain it, and then we can cure it… anyway let’s get a move on.” he said, ushering them out. 

Cyclonus walked forwards swiftly, passing Megatron and Utlar Mgsuna, towards the elevator. People looked at them as they exited their hab suite, but it wasn't uncommon for Cyclonus to be carrying Tailgate so nothing was out of the ordinary about that.

As they reached the elevator he noticed several people’s faces look up with mild interest as a new bot boarded the elevator. One of which was chromedome. Which meant that rewind wasn't anywhere else but right beside him. Tailgate looked down and waved. rewind waved back, visor widening when noticing their conjoined chest plates before squinting into a sly smile. Tailgate shrugged and rubbed the back of his helm sheepishly. Cyclonus knew that Tailgate would never hear the end of it. Just as the doors were shutting he heard the sound of pedes wapping against the floor as a voice yelled out.

“WAIT! WAIT! HOLD THAT DOOR!” 

It was whirl.

Nearly everyone tried to discreetly reach over and press the ‘close door’ button as fast as they could, but with no luck he had made it in. he crammed himself in between Cyclonus and some other unfortunate spark. Cyclonus turned so his back was turned to him, effectively putting Tailgate right up against chromedome. Rewind reached up and grabbed his hand and said something in chiro linguistics. Cyclonus couldn't tell. Tailgate had taught what he knew of speaking hand after the whole thing with getaway. Tailgate seemed so excited about it so Cyclonus went and learned how to speak it fluently to surprise him. Rewind removed his hand from the memosurgeon’s and Chromedome looked over at him with a wince on his face, then to Cyclonus with a sympathetic look. This was humiliating. All of a sudden there was a clunk and their armour rearranged, shifting the position that it was locked in. the elevator became about 5 times hotter as the light from their spark seeped from between the seams for a hot second. They both simultaneously cringed as whirp piped up

“did it just get hotter in here or what?” he said with a laugh. No one said anything.  
The atmosphere was about as thick as mud and cyclonus could feel as tailgates vents slowed to a stop. He was holding his breath.

 

When they reached the oil reservoir they all split off. Cyclonus gasped a little as the air around became hot as tailgate released all the heat at once, luckily this area was large enough that it dissipated before anyone else could notice. Rewind followed Tailgate and Cyclonus.

“So caught in the act huh? Or rather, still being caught in the act…” he chuckled semi nervously, talking to Tailgate but also somewhat to Cyclonus by proxy. Tailgate grumbled. Or more rather huffed -an attributed factor by Cyclonus- before speaking.

“Yeah, of all the things that could’ve ruined this, spark eaters was the last thing on my list.” he said in a low tone.

“Heh, so how long do you think it’d be until, you.. Ya’know…” Rewind said, referencing vaguely about when they would disconnect. Cyclonus simply shrugged, as much as he hated this he knew there was nothing he could do about it other than try and hide it from peeking eyes by shielding the places where their armour locked together. He didn't need others seeing him in such a state of weakness. Tailgate spoke

“Well, we had just locked when we had been so rudely interrupted.” he said, shooting a death glare at ultra mgsuna from across the reservoir. He was none the wiser. Rewind drew in a sharp invent 

“Oof, well i’ll leave you two to it then, i’ll be going.” he said, embarrassed. Tailgate slouched in Cyclonus’ arms and sighed, it was mainly for show. Cyclonus knew that he wished more than anything that they were somewhere more private. 

He walked over to a corner and sat down, hugging him close. Tailgate reached up and hooked his hand around Cyclonus’ collar before reaching up to his neck, idly playing with his jaw. Cyclonus leaned down and pressed his face into the crook of Tailgates neck, softly muttering sweet nothings into the cables. 

They both sat there, suddenly lost to the outside world as they both put full attention on the other. Cyclonus felt their Sparks flutter happily together. Tailgate slid his hand under the warrior’s helm, running his hand along the sensitive protoform. Cyclonus mouthed the cables on the minibot’s neck, running his glossa in between them and Tailgate shivered, taking his hand out from under Cyclonus’ helm and wrapping both of them around the back of his neck. He tugged him closer and Cyclonus happily obliged, nuzzling in closer, his horns fitting in under Tailgates hood.

There was a shift in the air and Cyclonus looked up to see Ultra Magnus glance at them from across the reservoir, Megatron right beside him holding his hands up In an outstretched position as if he were explaining something. Ultra Magnus eyes went wide and he looked back at Megatron with an embarrassed look before it quickly turned to annoyance. Cyclonus watched him as he started walking around the edge of the reservoir, Megatron trying to go after him with a pleading expression but he told him off and kept walking. 

“What's wrong Cyclonus?” Tailgate whispered, noticing that Cyclonus’ and his spark speed up in tandem.  
“Someone else has caught wind of our little… situation. And it seems they are about to enforce a some rules on us.” he whispered back with a chuckle. Tailgates visor went wide and then he laughed too, getting the joke. They laughed together, completely oblivious to the figure encroaching on them.

“Ahem.”

Cyclonus’ face returned to a neutral scowl as the Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord towered over them. Tailgate went to turn around but his view was blocked by his hood. Cyclonus turned his chest so Tailgate could see. He put his arms around Tailgate’s back protectively as Ultra Magnus scowled. He loomed over the two, and looked everywhere but Cyclonus’ eyes.

“I'm going to need you two to cease and desist immediately, as this goes against our policies for public displays of affection.” He said in a flat tone, and even more robotic than usual.

Cyclonus looked to Tailgate with sarcastic disbelief. His conjunx smirked and tapped him on the side where ultra Magnus couldn't see.

“Well, here's the thing-” Tailgate started. Ultra Magnus raised an optical ridge.  
“-We can't exactly separate at the moment.” Cyclonus finished, opening his arms up to show that they were locked together. Ultra Magnus sputtered at the sight. 

This way of spark merging was outdated, as all the newer model frames had a new, and frankly, to Cyclonus, alien interface method. They were probably the only two people left on the ship to still have this interface array. Tailgate almost got upgraded with the new array when he had his legs rebuilt. Ratchet had given him the runthrough on spike and valve arrays, a new form of interface based on humans, but Tailgate had declined the offer after he realised that Cyclonus didn't have the upgrade. This was before they were conjunx endura, and now, that, was an awkward conversation.

“I-ill…” Ultra Mgsuna stuttered. “I’m going to need you two to r-refer to Ratchet then…” he said, looking away. Tailgate piped up.

“What!? Why?!” he said, visor brightening. Cyclonus felt the fear jolt inside of him. He quickly grabbed his hand and spoke using their hands.

: Don't worry, he isn’t going to physically separate us. : He said. He could feel Tailgate calm down a little.  
“Because this is in direct violation of code and if you two can't fix it, then maybe he can.” Ultra Magnus said, matter-of-factly.

Cyclonus growled and with one hand, supported Tailgate while he used the other to help himself up, it was harder to stand when you have a minibot attached to your chest after all.  
“Fine.” Cyclonus spat, and walked off, leaving Ultra Magnus standing there awkwardly.  
As they walked Tailgate noticed that Cyclonus veered away from Ratchet at the last second. He looked up, confused.

“Wait, so were not going to Ratchet?” he whispered.

“Pfft, no. I just wanted to get away from Ultra Frag-face, I can't stand him, and what is Ratchet supposed to do about this anyway?” he motioned to their conjoined chests with one hand. “No, little one, we’re going somewhere where we don't break any of his ‘precious rules’.” Cyclonus whispered back.  
“Cyclonus!” Tailgate whispered, laughing at the warrior’s rebelliousness. He moved his arms up to Cyclonus’ chestplate to cover the seam as they passed through a crowd.

“Yes Tailgate?” He asked coyly. They both ducked around a corner and into a small, shallow alley before they burst out laughing, their conjoined sparks amplifying the feeling of giddiness shared between them. Tailgate scrambled.

“Shhhh! Cyclonus!” he said while still laughing. Cyclonus continued laughing however and Tailgate let out a loud ‘Woah!’ as the purple mech used one arm to lean against a wall and Tailgate suddenly changed angles, with the other on top of him and him being supported up by one arm. Cyclonus leaned in close to his neck and kissed it, smiling in between fits of tailgate’s laughter. He moved upwards towards the minibot’s jaw line but before he got there he tapped lightly on his faceplate with a digit. Tailgate opened his mouth cover and, unlatching from his neck, Cyclonus kissed it roughly, his glossa and denta scraping against the soft sensory nubs that lined the minibot’s intake. Tailgate did the best he could at reciprocating, flexing the tubing that lined his throat to squeeze and tug at the warrior’s glossa, which by the little sounds that Cyclonus was making, was just enough to drive him crazy.

They both leaned into each other as they kissed, their two-now-one, spark growing hotter. Cyclonus groaned into Tailgate’s proto mouth at the feeling and Tailgate did the same, wrapping his arm around the back of the warrior’s helm, mashing their mouths together harder. Cyclonus pumped more heat into their spark chamber and Tailgate moaned, taking his hands off the back of Cyclonus’ head and latched them around his back, pulling him closer in pleasure. His visor suddenly turned on and he hummed into Cyclonus’ mouth urgently. They broke away with a gasp and then a chuckle as they saw that their oral lubricants were connecting them by a string at the mouth.

“What’s wrong Tailgate?” Cyclonus asked, 

“We’re still in public, you amazing idiot!” He whispered loudly.

“Tell me, how many people do you see here?” Cyclonus whispered back. Tailgate looked around only to find that there wasn’t a bot in sight.

“... no one…”

“Exactly!” he whispered into Tailgate’s audial. “If we can't see anybody, they can't see us!”

“Just because they can't see us, doesn't mean they can't hear us!” Tailgate said with a laugh as Cyclonus started ravaging his neck with little kisses.

“Cyclonus please!” he said in a hushed tone, giggling. Cyclonus hummed inquiringly.

“Please what?” he teased. Using the hand that was supporting Tailgate, he inched his hand over and tickled Tailgate on the underside of his hood, a spot that Cyclonus had found was highly sensitive  
.  
“Cyyyyyy! Stoppppp!! I'm gonna blow a fuse!!” Tailgate squeaked, snickering.

“I don't know what you’re talking about.” Cyclonus said innocently. 

He swapped positions so he was leaning his back against the wall and Tailgate was on top of him, giving him a free hand to do whatever he liked. He used it to torture Tailgate’s hood as well, sliding it in beside his first. Tailgate squirmed as much as he could, with his chest locked in place.

“Nooooooooo!!!” he yelled, giggling. Cyclonus reached up and kissed his faceplate deeply, removing his hands from Tailgates hood and soothing over the spots he had tickled. Tailgate gave a sigh of relief and reached his hands up to grab Cyclonus’ face.

“Tailgate? Cyclonus? Are you two okay? Ultra magnus said you two needed help-- Oh!” a voice approached. Cyclonus and Tailgate parted mouths immediately and fell to the floor in shock. Cyclonus let out a pained urgh and Tailgate looked to see if he was ok before turning his attention back to the voice, who turned out to be Ratchet. 

“Ratchet I-I can explain!” he said quickly, visor widening. Cyclonus was quickly alert and turned his body so his back was to Ratchet, Tailgate peaking over his shoulder.  
“I… umm,” Ratchet started. “Was not expecting to find this. I am awfully sorry, you two.” he said apologetically.

“It's fine, we were interrupted by the spark eaters, and then ultra magnus, so we thought we would find a place to hide while we tried to sort this out… but I guess we got--” Tailgate started  
“--Carried away?” Cyclonus finished, looking at his conjunx with a smirk. Tailgate snickered.  
“Hey Ratchet. Did you find them?” they heard another voice. Cyclonus looked over to see Drift running over, waving his hand to get ratchet’s attention.

“Yeah, I found them,” Ratchet said with a sigh. “Couple o’ love bugs, these two are.” he added. Drift walked up next to him and tilted his head in confusion, putting his hands on his hips. Ratchet waved it off  
“Earth term.” he simply put. Drift noded.

“Well, you two need to get up soon because news has it that they caught the spark eaters and have successfully cured them, couple of old castaways.” Ratchet said. As if on queue Megatron’s voice sounded over the speakers, saying that the spark eaters had been contained and that everyone could return to their hab suites.

Tailgate nodded and Cyclonus groaned and braced himself against the wall as he pulled himself and Tailgate up from their position on the ground. His eyes suddenly opened wide as he felt his and Tailgates spark unmerge and the auto lock on their chest plates unclasped. Cyclonus let out a little gasp that was only audible to Tailgate and he tensed up with a small squeak of surprise.

“Well, you two coming?” Ratchet said as Cyclonus stood there frozen for a good moment.  
“...Yes, just give us a moment.” He said. He grabbed Tailgate’s hand and spoke in hands

: Don't panic, and don't disengage. We’d be too vulnerable. : He said, breathing heavily.

: But every moment we stay like this we run the risk of becoming sparkbound! Or worse, we could go into stasis lock! : Tailgate said back, his hands were shaking. 

: It will be ok, we’ll worry about that when we get back. : Cyclonus said, bringing Tailgate’s hand to his face and kissing it reassuringly. Tailgate nodded. Cyclonus turned around and heard a gasp from Drift as he noticed their conjoined chests. He looked over and saw him averting his gaze with his hand. Finally some bot with decency.

As they joined the crowd leaving Cyclonus felt his legs swiftly becoming more and more like jelly, with every step he took he felt like he was going to collapse. He found Tailgate panting heavily into his chest and trembling. The heat from their sparks orbiting around each other made his processor blurry. Tailgate let out a quiet, shakey ‘ooooohh...~’ and Cyclonus pet the back of his helm soothingly. He jolted as the gravity swing from the orbit threw him forwards, throwing him off balance. Ratchet quickly reached out and caught him and Tailgate before they fell. Cyclonus nodded and grumbled appreciatively before continuing walking.   
Tailgate moaned and fumbled, trying to open the locks with his hands. Cyclonus’ eyes went wide and he grabbed his hands.

: Don’t disengage! Don’t disengage! Don’t disengage! Don’t disengage! : he said over and over, distracting his sparkmate. He looked over and saw Drift staring intently at their hands then realised that he could probably understand what they were saying. Cyclonus shot him a glare and he returned with a concerned look.

“CYCLONUS!” Tailgate gasped loudly, clawing at cyclonus’ back, wrapping his legs around his waist. A few people in the crowd turned and looked back, and then Cyclonus fell to his knees as he felt it too. A tiny spark had formed in between his and Tailgate’s orbit.


	2. 2

Ratchet rushed over to him and Cyclonus pushed him away with a snarl with one arm while holding the minibot tight to his body. He let out a loud ‘Reurgh!’ and doubled over in surprise as he felt the spark connect to his with a tiny string of light. At this point the whole crowd had stopped and was watching. Cyclonus heard the shuffle of pedes and then a faster shuffling backwards as Drift had thrown himself in between them and the crowd.

“Everyone back up, give them space!” he yelled, drawing his sword. Cyclonus saw the familiar red glow of a camera light from the crowd and knew that Rewind was recording.

Their bodies trembled and convulsed with the strain of staying together and they finally snapped, Cyclonus arching his back as the locks disengaged. The room was suddenly flooded with purple light and several gasps echoed through the crowd as Tailgate and Cyclonus’ sparks lay bare, along with a third, tiny, purple spark, orbiting around Cyclonus’. Ratchet quickly got up and yelled out

“EVERYBODY OUT! OUT! I NEED THE ROOM CLEARED!”

The room quickly moved out of the reservoir and Ratchet commed the medbay for a stretcher.

Cyclonus closed his spark chamber, all the pieces transforming into place and he quickly looked to Tailgate in his lap, who was slumped over exhausted, spark chamber struggling to shut. Cyclonus gathered his limp body and held it close to his chassis, protecting it from harm instinctively. He didn't even hear the quiet muttering of Drift praying next to him until Tailgate’s optics onlined and with slurred speech he spoke.

“Cyclonus are you ok?..” he said weakly. Cyclonus let out a shaky vent that he didn't know he had been holding and he ran a hand over the back of Tailgate’s helm, shaking with relief and fatigue.

“Yes, I'm fine, a-are you?” he said. Tailgate hummed and tapped a finger weakly against his chest. Cyclonus laid back on the floor with his conjunx on top of him, Tailgate resting his helm over his spark chamber

“Tailgate?” Cyclonus said in a barely audible whisper. He felt a light tap on his chest. Poor Tailgate didn't even have the energy for speaking.

“... I think I'm sparked…” he said. He felt a small hand rub circles on his chest plates around where his spark chamber was and he stared up at the ceiling.

“Pfft, you think?” he heard Ratchet say, walking over with First Aid, rolling a stretcher behind them. “I know, for a fact, that you are sparked pal.” he said, looking down at Cyclonus. Cyclonus continued to stare blankly up at the ceiling. He felt himself being lifted up slightly above the ground and then the stretcher being slid underneath him. By the time that they raised the height on the stretcher, Cyclonus was pretty sure that tailgate had fallen asleep.

People stared at them as they were carted through the hallways to the medbay but cyclonus couldn't bring himself to care. Not even when they shoved needles through the wires in his wrists and neck to insert I.V.’s,

At one point they tried to take Tailgate and set him on a different berth and he nearly ripped whoever the poor mech was’s face off. So they ended up leaving him on Cyclonus’ chest, inserting an energon drip and a system analysis hardline cable into both of them while they were on the same berth.

When Cyclonus woke up he found Tailgate wasn't on him and he nearly ripped out his I.V.’s to search frantically. He was quickly calmed however, as Tailgate had simply woken up and went to sit down beside him. The small servo on his chest calmed him stronger than any sedative could. He checked his internal clock to find that a few days had passed and he turned his head to find that Tailgate was still connected to the energon drip as well as him. When Ratchet walked in he found them together, Tailgate on Cyclonus’ lap, helms pressed to each other’s and their hands intertwined.

Ratchet wheeled in a mirror over besides Tailgate’s and Cyclonus’ berth and told Cyclonus to open his spark chamber. He did, looking in the mirror to find that, he did, in fact have a small purple spark orbiting around his own. He heard Tailgate gasp and squeal happily.

“Cy! You're sparked! We're gonna have a sparkling!” He said excitedly, squeezing his hand.

“How do you feel Cyclonus?” Ratchet said, noticing Cyclonus’ gaze hadn't moved from the mirror. He smiled. Barely. He looked over to Ratchet with wide eyes.

“I feel hungry. Very hungry.” He said in a straight tone. Tailgate giggled a little, looking at The miniature spark orbiting around Cyclonus’ from his spot in his lap.

“That's to be expected, with how long you two stayed joined I'm sure you are. That used a lot of energy on both sides, and Cyclonus, your frame is probably already using up resources to start making the protomater. You'll need to eat more metals if you don't want the sparkling siphoning them out of parts of your body that you need.” Ratchet said, walking out of the room. 

Cyclonus looked down to Tailgate and smiled. Tailgate looked up with an excited look. Cyclonus closed his spark chamber and tailgate cooed, pressing his audial to his chest.

“I think I can hear it!” he said in an excited whisper. Cyclonus laughed.

“Hmm? Is that so?” He asked, looking down at Tailgates happy look. Tailgate suddenly got quiet and his look changed from happy to scared.

“Cyclonus how are we going to make sure it stays healthy?!” He said in a hushed tone “What if something happens to it!? What if it--” Cyclonus cut him off with a 'shhhh’ and he wrapped his arms around his back, pulling him close to his face.

“That's why we're at the medbay with Ratchet. He'll tell us all we need to know.” Cyclonus said quietly, nuzzling the top of Tailgate’s head. “He'll tell us how to take care of it.” he said reassuringly while petting tailgates back.

“I hope so…” Tailgate said, pressing his faceplate into Cyclonus’ neck in his version of a kiss.

Ratchet walked back into the room with a datapad in one hand and a mixture of enriched energon in the other.

“Ok, so first things first, you two are going to need to spark merge as frequent  
and often as possible, to ensure that the new spark has the energy to survive. It says…” Ratchet squinted at the data pad. “... that if you start to feel your spark shrink, or especially hurt, that you need to merge immediately, because that is the new spark absorbing energy from the carrier’s spark as a last resort, and that is not good.” He finished. Cyclonus nodded, holding Tailgate’s hand.

“You will also need to get some of this from me every few days or so,” He handed Cyclonus the energon, “it's enriched with all the metals needed for frame construction, so your body doesn't take the metals from somewhere else.”

Cyclonus took the glass and drank it. It tasted… sweet? He couldn't put a finger on it but as soon as it hit his tanks his head cleared. He didn't even know that his thinking had been fogged until his tanks were full. He set the glass down. And looked back to Ratchet.

“Here, don't know much about caring for sparklings, but this will tell you both everything you need to know.” he said, handing them the data pad. “Feel free to holler for me and ask if you have any medical related questions, i’ll be off in the next room.” He said, walking out of the room again. Cyclonus took the datapad and turned it on, reading a few lines before handing it off to tailgate, who was making grabby hands towards it.

“Oh, and if you want to leave any time soon, i suggest using the back way out, there may be a crowd around the door at the moment.”

“I think we might do that.” Cyclonus said, looking down at tailgate for confirmation. He nodded.

“Alright, i’ll be in there in a second to unhook ya’." Ratchet said. 

Tailgate tapped Cyclonus on the side while reading the datapad. Cyclonus looked down and found Tailgate pointing to a section of text. He read it  
.  
-it is recommended, for flyer type carriers, to spark merge up to once a day. It is also not uncommon for certain mechs to engage in plug n’ play, (or terminologically known as hardline interfacing) at this time, as it also provides a means of fun and happiness for both carrier and sire, and can provide a little bit of extra energy to help fuel frame construction.-

Tailgate nudged Cyclonus in the side and cyclonus looked at him, raising an optical ridge and smirking. Ratchet came in and unhooked them, taking the i.v. out of Tailgate’s wrist and Cyclonus’ neck. As they stood to get up Cyclonus felt slightly heavier than before, he didn't know if it was the faint lingering of fatigue still in his lines, or if it was the sparkling, but either way he stumbled when he reached full height. Tailgate reached up and grabbed his hand as they walked. He waved on their way out of the medbay, thanking Ratchet. 

Cyclonus was glad that ratchet suggested the back route, because when they got back to their hab suite Rewind commed Tailgate telling him that there was now a crowd of people looking for them, the reason for, he did not know. Rewind did however say that it was lead by whirl, so that may have been a key indicator to the types of mech in that crowd, and they had caused quite the incident back at the oil reservoir. Knowing this ship, word got around fast

Tailgate climbed up on the berth and motioned for cyclonus to join him, which Cyclonus happily did. As soon as he sat down Tailgate was on top of him, pushing him down and pressing his faceplate to Cyclonus’ mouth.

“Woah!” Cyclonus said in between kisses, laughing. Tailgate had climbed on top of him and was opening his spark chamber and his port covers, exposing his interface cables. 

“Excited much?” Cyclonus asked as he drew back from the kiss, throwing his arms loosely around the small of Tailgate’s back. The minibot pressed his faceplate to Cyclonus’ lips once more before speaking

“You were out for two days! I missed you! I had no one to talk to and I'm pretty sure people were getting sick of my constant lonesome sighing. I didn't leave your side once!”

Cyclonus scooted so his back was against the wall and he was sitting upright before he opened his spark chamber. He left his port covers closed for the time being however. He had an idea first.

“I know, I think I recall you singing in the old tongue once while it was quiet. It was beautiful.” he said, looking into Tailgate’s eyes. “Your accent and singing voice could use work though. You sing it from your chest, not your throat, you have to put your spark into it.” He added playfully, tapping him on the face plate. 

“It was the middle of the night, if I sang with the vigor that you sing with I would have woken up the whole ship!” Tailgate laughed. He scoffed.

“Okay, maybe not the whole ship.” Tailgate corrected sheepishly.

Cyclonus chuckled with him. He pressed his chest to Tailgate’s, their sparks orbiting around each other. The new spark ellipsed around Tailgate’s spark and he giggled, the feeling strange to him. Their chests locked together and Cyclonus immediately pumped it full of heat. Tailgate gasped and keeled into Cyclonus’ body as he also electrified his hand and fingered the ports on Tailgate’s side, creating a circuit. Tailgate fumbled and shook, hands shaking as he searched for Cyclonus’ panel to try and reciprocate. When he realised that the flyer still had his panels closed he reached up and latched on onto Cyclonus’ collar plates for dear life, letting out a loud ‘ohhhhhhhhhh!~’

“Cy-y-y-yclonus!!” Tailgate moaned out.

“Yes?” He asked, smirking. He was enjoying himself maybe a little too much.

“St-t-stoop! Yo-ou’re g-going to d-d-d-deplete y-yours-self!!!” Tailgate said through gasps of pleasure. Cyclonus’ eyes went wide and he pulled his hand away, realising that Tailgate was right, and that he would deplete himself of energy if he kept on like this. He moved his hand up Tailgate’s side, touching the sensitive transformation seams of his chest piece before moving to his face, cradling his cheek in his palm. 

Tailgate sighed softly, taking his chord from and stretching it over to Cyclonus’ closed port covers. He sent off a little static shock, lightly zapping the undercarriage of Cyclonus’ abdominal plating and the larger mech shivered, the feeling tingling all the way up his spinal struts. He let his panel slide away and he felt Tailgate press his faceplate to his neck cables. He tilted his chin up to allow the minibot better access and his horns clacked against the wall painfully, causing his eyes to blur for a second as the reverberations ran through his skull. The pain was quickly soothed, however, as Tailgate nuzzled his facemask in between the cables, causing Cyclonus to let out a sigh in satisfaction. 

Tailgate jacked in and sent a hard pang of energy to Cyclonus, which caused him to groan and lean into the feeling. He curled his body forwards, pumping heat into their spark   
chambers. He fumbled with his hands, reaching one hand down to his side while wrapping the other around Tailgate’s back. He grabbed his cable and plugged it into Tailgate, returning the favor, sending energy out into the minibot. He moaned loudly, the sound muffled by Cyclonus’ neck and the vibrations rattled his face against him. They shot energy back and forth, moaning into one another.

Shakily Cyclonus looked down, Tailgate moving away from his neck and tilting his head curiously. Cyclonus looked into his visor, catching a glimpse of the optics behind it before the lighting quickly hid them away again. He reached a hand up to Tailgate’s face, cupping his jaw sweetly again before pulling him into a deep kiss. Cyclonus felt the minibot jolt as he sent a particularly strong surge out and Tailgate whined into his mouth. He smiled through the kiss. He choked in surprise when his conjunx overloaded, shooting out three, four, five hard jolts of electricity over his cable, which brought the purple warrior to his climax too. He groaned in pleasure, claws leaving small scratches on Tailgate’s hood as he held him tighter. They both parted and gasped for air, their vents dumping out the electrical discharge from their overloads. The room smelled like ozone, and probably would for the next while.

As Cyclonus disconnected their cables tailgate nuzzled his face mask into his chest, petting the back of the warrior’s helm absentmindedly. Their chests popped free from each other with a hiss and they seperated, shutting them. As Tailgate pet the back of his helm Cyclonus began to feel drowsy. They cuddled close and fell asleep together, the room warm from their sparks.

 

When Cyclonus woke Tailgate was still asleep, arms draped lazily around his neck. His tanks grumbled and his energy meter flashed red. He was more tired than when he fell asleep. He mumbled a curse in the old tongue, carefully removing the minibot’s arms from around his neck. Tailgate woke up.

“ngh...What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice a little blurred as he took a deep invent. It was his version of a yawn. Cyclonus grumbled sleepily.

“I'm running incredibly low on energy.” He said, sitting up. His helm felt about ten times heavier than it ought have. His optics drooped and his spinal struts ached as his vents let out a burst of hot air and drew in cold. He felt his body cool down slowly, starting at his chest and spreading throughout the rest of his frame. The one place that didn't cool down was his face however. For whatever reason his face stayed flush. As his joints popped and creaked from the temperature change he spoke in a husky voice.

“Come with me to get rations.” he said, staring at a spot on the wall.

“I can go get them for us!” Tailgate offered enthusiastically, placing a hand on Cyclonus’ wing.

“No, I feel like-” he paused and stood up with a groan, his joints whirring. “-I need some fresh air. I need to move around.” he finished, flexing his servos, his brow furrowing slightly at their stiffness.

“Ok!” he said, using Cyclonus’ hip plate as a crutch as he helped himself down off the berth.

Tailgate reached a servo up to him when he touched the ground. Cyclonus looked at his tiny conjunx and wondered how their sparkling would look. Would it look more like him or tailgate? He didn't know. But judging on how much energy it was sucking out of him, it definitely would be lively. It got that from Tailgate for sure.

He took the minibots hand and opened their habsuite door, peeking his head out and glancing down the hallways out of habit. No one was out. As they walked down the hallways he felt how stiff his joints really were. With every stride he took they rubbed against each other, sounding like the groan of a squeaky door slot. He couldn't even hear the soft whirr of Tailgate’s over the crunching of his.

He felt Tailgate’s hands move in an odd way and it took him a second to realise that he was talking to him.

: how are you? : he asked, not giving any indication outwardly that he was talking to Cyclonus, which the purple mech was grateful for.

: everything hurts. : he told him. They got to the meal hall and there was the usual crowd.

: do you think it could have something to do with the sparkling? : Tailgate asked.

“Maybe,” Cyclonus said out loud, not loud enough for anyone to notice it over the small chatter of the crowd though. 

He reached the large terminal in the back of the meal hall and tapped in his and tailgate’s name against the screen, the characters floating off and dropping into a ‘pending request’ box that was slowly loading. He looked down to the minibot next to him to find him toying with the joint in his middle finger, right where it met his palm. tailgate was moving the joint around, working his fingers in to play with the rollers inside right when the automated droid came rolling out from the wall, bringing their cubes with it. He quickly left cyclonus’ hand in favor of carrying their cubes back to their suite, cyclonus following close behind him.

As they walked back to hab suite 14 Cyclonus got a com from Ultra Magnus, it popping up in the corner of his vision, flashing an annoying and alarming bright blue that almost made him flinch as if something were on the outskirts of his peripheral vision. 

It read “Come see me in my office.” and that was it. The message was meant to be intimidating and make Cyclonus worry, but he wasn’t fazed. The tactics that the lawmech used were of no use on him. He did however wonder what kind of work he would make him do as payment for the scene they had caused. 

Tailgate happily trotted in and set the energon cubes down on the berth, hopping up to the high platform as if it were nothing. That's one thing Cyclonus loved about tailgate, despite the fact that he was unfathomably thoughtful, it was the fact that the little minibot was incredibly strong that he could do almost everything, with the exception that it drained him much faster. But that didn't matter, just all the more time to spend recharging with tailgate on long days. Rodimus always found new jobs for them everyday, be it on or off planet. On one particular day he had made tailgate manually transform a wall in the ship by hand because no one else could do it, and he did, he took it apart and folded it back bit by bit until it was fully compartmentalised in the walls surrounding it. However most times it was just difficult cleaning jobs that no one else wanted to do.

Tailgate tapped his servo on the berth besides himself, motioning for cyclonus to sit down. He sat down, his hip joint popping as something caught and righted itself inside the disks. He winced and rubbed it, it was the hip he had hit against the berth earlier. It almost- he paused, moving his leg slightly and the joint got caught again. It felt like something was warped. He would have to deal with that later. 

He took the energon from tailgate and popped his hip again as he sat cross legged on the berth. After a moment of silence as they finished off their cubes cyclonus spoke.

“Ultra magnus wants to see me.” he said in a tone that was the equivalent of ‘here, get this’ almost mocking, in a way. Tailgate perked up.

“-...and?” tailgate said, expecting more.

“I don't know, that's all he said.” cyclonus paused, reaching out a hand to the mech next to him. “Would you care to come with me?” he said.

Tailgate laughed, cyclonus offering his hand as if he were to lead him into some sort of fancy dance. “You're ridiculous… of course,” Tailgate muttered with a smirk in his visor and he rested his hand on the clawed servo outstretched to him.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ultra fragnus assigns cyclonus to guard the brig as punishment, but things dont go so well

As they walked through the halls every mech in a hundred yard radius stopped what they were doing and stared at him and Tailgate. Every. Single. One. This was decidedly worse than anything ultra magnus could have conjured up. The embarrassment that Cyclonus felt blush through his systems almost made him let go of Tailgate’s hand, and Tailgate felt this. He felt the unsure slack of the bigger mech’s fingers, his hand almost falling through their grip.

They knew. They all knew. They knew he had been caught in a moment of weakness. They know he wasn't as well composed as he presented himself to be. They all saw his **spark** , and even worse, **Tailgates**. They all saw what was shared in moments of deep trust, of immense compassion, something you only show to the people you trust with your life. They all saw his weakest point, he was completely vulnerable.

He could have died. There were many a mech in that crowd that would have jumped at that opportunity if not for drift. He owed a thank you to him. They could see his posture and they all probably could make a guess. They knew he had been gone a few days, and one can only assume one thing, given all that information.

He wanted to hide, to seal himself away in a box and make this all stop happening, and the thing was he **never** wanted to hide. He never felt the need to hide **himself**. Sure he would bottle emotions, but his whole person? no.

He felt Tailgate tap his palm, a silent gesture that was meant to bring him back out of his own head. Tailgate had the uncanny ability to tell when he started fretting. They reached ultra magnus’ office and before he could even knock on the door it slid open, revealing the large mech sitting at his desk in a confrontational style, his desk perfectly clean and organised, and meticulously symmetrical. He saw him look at a stack of datapads and then the other and tap the top of one, moving it a microscopic amount, apparently righting it. With a deep invent he looked towards Cyclonus, completely skimming over Tailgate.

“Do you know why I called you here, Cyclonus?” he asked. Tailgate squeezed his hand, pulling it closer to himself and the larger mech almost stumbled.

“Yes.” Cyclonus said. Ultra mgsuna seemed taken aback at his boldness. Apparently all the other mech that had been called in here played dumb when confronted. Not him though.

After the initial shock ultra fragnus regained his wit.

    “Ok, then why did I?”

    Tailgate was squeezing his hand even harder now, almost dragging him down. He stood completely rigid however.

    “Because you wanted to give me a suitable punishment for disobeying orders for a problem that was out of my control.” Cyclonus said shortly and briskly.

“...correct…” He said with a pause. “ either way, I'm assigning you to guard the brig. I'm disappointed in how you handled your… situation… that you had with Tailgate.” he said, taking a long pause to think about the word ‘situation’.

    “Wait wait wait!!!” Tailgate said panickedly. Ultra magnus jumped at the sound of his voice, almost as if, well he probably **couldn't** see him from over the desk. Ultra magnus’ eyes opened wide as he realised Tailgate was here too.

“...Yes?” he said slowly

“You can't send him there with all those dangerous mechs! -At least not alone!”

  “And why is that?” the enforcer said, raising an optical ridge

 “Because he’s carrying! Hes sparked!” 

           Ultra Magnus’ eyes went wide and Cyclonus could almost hear the enforcers denta grinding against each other as he commed who he assumed was Ratchet. After a long pause he scowled and talked into the com link.

 “So they can't be separated?!” He said, frusteration rising in his tone. Tailgate flinched at the noise.           

“Ok. Mhmm. Yeah. I suppose we could work towards some sort of compromise. Thank you.” He said hanging up, slowly turning towards Cyclonus.

 “ S-s-s-sparked.” he said, forcing out the word from in between his teeth with a grimace. Cyclonus didn't like how he said it one bit. It made him twitch with rage. He wanted to pluck him out of his seat and crush his body between his claw tips like a can, or rip his vox box out, or tear his face off, or- well anything to get him to stop talking like **that**. It kept playing over and over in his head and it was poking at him, prodding at him. If circumstances were different he just might have.

“ **You,** **You’re** ssp-” ultra magnus choked on his own words. “Sp- spuuh-”

 “ **Sparked**.” Cyclonus said flatly, finishing for ultra magnus

 “- yes that,” he said, tapping his servos on his desk. “Either way you’re still written in for guarding the bridge, there's no way to get out of that.” he sighed deeply. “-but... I **guess** you can take Tailgate with you…” he said, dragging his hands down his face. Tailgate looked up at Cyclonus happily.

 “Thank you.” Cyclonus said as he turned to leave. Right before he breached the door frame he turned his head over his shoulder and spoke. “By the way- it wasn’t a matter of if I **could** _or_ **couldn’t** bring Tailgate. It's a must. Where I go he goes.”

He saw the enforcer look up from his hands with a scowl.

 “Doctor’s orders!” Tailgate added, yelling out as the door shut.

  
  


If there was one thing that Cyclonus wanted to make clear, it was that the brig **stunk.** To say it reeked would be an understatement. The combined smell of spilled energon and rust and mold and dirt and, dare he say it, **lubricant,** (yes. really.), all made up for a stench so fowl that made some mechs want to bash their faces in just to get rid of the thought of it.

 As they walked in they could hear the clanging of metal against metal, groaning mechs and banging against the walls of the cells, the quiet hum of the electrified bars. Yep. just as dark and gloomy and disgusting as he remembered it to be.

 He heard a mech bang a fist against the wall before speaking out in a gritty, parched tone.

 “Hey frag-face,” the mech chuckled and then wheezed to hack up something from inside his vents. “What’s that little fragger ya’ got right there? Did’ja bring us a little present?” Cyclonus saw a cracked servo reach out from the dark depths of a cell, breaching into the light to point at Tailgate, and even primus knew what he was implying.

 Cyclonus felt Tailgate scoot closer to his legs as they walked.

 There came a chorus of slow and quiet laughter echoing down the hallways from in between the cells laughing at Tailgate. A few of the mechs banging on the walls of their cells faster and harder. He assumed those were the ones without voices.

 “A tiny-cute mech like that and we’d be havin’ fun for dayyys!” another scraggly voice offered,

 “Yeah! It's been awhile since we've had a good **toy** to frag!” the voice burst out laughing and others joined in, the brig now roaring with the high pitched howling of laughter, hoots and hollers reverberating off the cold and dusty floors.

 This place was filled with nothing but degenerates. Every. Last. One. Those who didn't face temporary time in the brig for a minor crime, were there indefinitely. Bots like interface offenders, robbers, murderers, and 1(one) lone narcissist(looking at you Getaway), were some of the few types of mech in this particular section.

 He bent down and picked Tailgate up,  the minibot flinching at the contact and then leaning into it, realising it was safe. His frame was cold and Cyclonus wanted nothing more than to hold him closer and warm him. There was a chorus of boos as he held him close to his chest, walking perfectly down the center of the aisle so it was guaranteed that nothing could reach out and **touch** them.

 “hey! No fair, keepin him all t’yerself like that!” one yelled out, reaching out through the bars. Cyclonus growled at him and touched the longsword on his back, a silent warning to him that if he wanted to keep his arm he would remove it from Cyclonus’ sight. He was **not** in the mood for this today. Not like this.

 He sighed as he reached the back of the long corridor, sitting himself down on a bench and noticing a couple of weapons left by previous guards. His longsword was better in his opinion. Shooting a gun didn't take any skill other than aiming and pulling a lever. A sword however? Not so easy.

 It took skill to wield a sword, both in mind and in body. Cyclonus took pride in his swordsmanship, as any noble warrior would, but now as he thought about it he wondered how his situation would affect his skill. How would having a newspark affect his practice? His sparing? Well, that was probably out of the question, it's not safe to spar when your body is spending all incoming resources on sentalico metallica for a newspark. Any damage taken, is damage left unhealed for a goodly amount of time. The little flicker of heat that he felt orbit every once and awhile was already affecting his balance, he’d been feeling top heavy and fatigued since this morning.

 The inmates were shouting slang and slurs at him, he wasn't paying attention. He looked towards Tailgate and before he knew why his arm had rocketed from his side he was smacking a small chunk of metal away from his conjunx, someone apparently having gouged out a piece of their cell to have thrown at them. Cyclonus growled and tucked Tailgate closer to his chest, sitting up and scanning for the offender.

 He spotted the mech, a few cells down, arm sticking out of the bars with another scrap piece of metal ready. He threw it and Cyclonus caught it, flinging it back with deadly force and accuracy. He watched as the unknown mech in question’s hand shattered, the piece of debris clipping three of their fingers and tearing them to stumps. Tailgate let out a little squeak of surprise at the loud **_“KRAK”_ ** it made. He saw the hand slowly retreat back into the cell,  A mech in the cell adjacent to the one who had thrown the rock slapped his wall, shouting.

 “Hey! You! Yeah you! What in the name of primus was that for?! We just wanted to talk to ya’s! That's all! We may have a little situation down here!” he said, sticking his head into the light.

 “I'm not interested.” Cyclonus said in a flat tone.

 “Comeon! What’s the harm! Were lonely! We rarely have anyone to talk to other than ourselves!”

 “Cyclonus don't do it.” Tailgate whispered.

 “Hey is that Cyclonus?” a lone voice spoke from somewhere further ahead. “Hey! It is! Hey Cyclonus! A little birdie told me you got sparked! Whos the lucky sire, huh? Bet you were a hell of a good frag if they decided to go the full distance.” it taunted. Everyone else started laughing again. Cyclonus saw red. Somemech was about to lose their hands.

 In an instant he had set Tailgate down on the bench and was storming towards the voice, reaching up to grab the tempest saber from off of his back. He felt the lurch of a gravity swing hit him and Something slammed against the side of his head and before he could tell what it was he was grabbed by the shoulder and pulled against the bars of the cell by a two fingered hand, bleeding at the other three knuckles. The bars zapped him a million times over, shorting out his eyes and vocal components. He struggled to get away as the energy frequency inhibited his muscles from working.

 There was a loud scream from down the hall that sounded like Tailgate. Cyclonus thrashed, well more like twitched weekly and then there was an loud wrenching sound and an even louder scream as someone's arm got torn off. The grip on Cyclonus let go and sound came rushing back to his audials, everyone was laughing. He fell forwards and quickly scrambled up, grabbing his sword and looking towards Tailgate, who was covered in energon.

 He looked closer to find that it wasn't Tailgates energon all over himself and the floor, but rather the energon from the arm of the mech he had just torn it from, who had tried and failed to grab the small mech. Tailgate just stood there in shock for a moment, realizing that his strength had gotten the better of him. He quickly dropped the limb in favor of running towards the aid of a Cyclonus who was currently groveling across the floor. He lifted him up to the extent that he could, cyclonus went limp in his arms.

 

When he woke up he was in the med bay, another energon drip in his neck.


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of what happened at the brig and some bad news from tailgate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been awhile since I last updated! But here's the new chapter and I have a lot more time on my hands now so I will definitely be updating more frequently!

“I can't believe it! Ultra magnus sending him to guard the brig! While sparked! While actively **knowing** that he was sparked!” there was a crash as something fell off a tray and a string of curses. “I swear! If I see him again today, i'm going to let him know _exactly_ how i'm going to remove my **pede** from his **aft**. The _nerve_ of some mech!” Ratchet rattled on and on in the background, talking to primus knew who. Probably first aid.

“Oh Cyclonus, you're awake.” Ratchet said, picking up on the slight change in Cyclonus’ venting pattern

“How long.” he asked.

“Pardon me?” Ratchet asked, cocking his helm.

“ **How long was I out.** ” he said again, slowly sitting up, looking ratchet dead in the eye.

“Oh. Not for too long, the incident happened not two hours ago. ‘Turns out the mech who had attacked, had torn off his own  **pede** to throw at you. I know, gross. Also, before you ask, Tailgate is just outside the door waiting.” He said, noticing how Cyclonus had started subconsciously glancing around.

“When can I…” he started.

“-Leave?” Ratchet finished. “Now, if you want. I would suggest you get plenty of recharge though, looking at how  **low** your energy levels are right now. Those bars really did a number on your systems.” he said, popping the drip from his neck. It had somewhat refueled him. “You really should be more careful, a jolt like that could have  **harmed** the newspark.” 

Cyclonus felt fear jolt inside of him, he pressed his servo against his chest plates for a moment before he thanked Ratchet and headed towards the door. 

He opened it to find Tailgate waiting on the other side, holding his sword, which was bigger than him. It was sort of silly in hindsight, he had it draped across his chest, holding it with tiny arms. It struck out at an odd angle, touching both the floor and the wall. In reality all Tailgate was really doing was keeping it from falling over. He took the sword by the handle, Tailgate pushed it away from his body as Cyclonus pulled it up and swung it around to his back to click it into place on the slot that he had installed not to long ago. 

He took the minibot by the hand and lead him back to their hab suite, a comfortable silence draping over them as they walked. When they got back to their room Cyclonus sat down on their berth and Tailgate joined him, sitting in his lap. He pressed his helm against the bridge of his nose and they both sat there with their optics offline, entangling themselves in each others presence. It was moments like this that Cyclonus loved the most; the quiet moments that they didn't have the need for words and simply just  _ felt _ . So much could be said without speaking. 

Cyclonus noticed as Tailgate pressed gently with little digits on the outskirts of his chest plates, working his fingers down to press gently on the sensitive edges of his vents. He noticed how he was doing it almost lazily, but Cyclonus knew that his full focus was on making him feel. he sighed happily and pressed his head into the crook of Tailgates shoulder, nuzzling his (not) cheeks into his jaw. He adjusted his arms around the minibot’s back and supported his shoulders more, pressing his torso closer into the dip of his shoulder. Tailgate moved his hands to the sides of Cyclonus’ midsection, running his fingers through the hollows of his biolights, a small buzz tingling up his arm as he made contact. Cyclonus heard the small  _ click _ of his voice box resetting a couple times over.

He pressed his lips against Tailgates neck softly, feeling out the round edges of the cables with the sensitive plating. He went on laying half kisses down its side as Tailgate leaned into the touch. 

Small hands roamed, pinching and pressing on the edges of his side plates, the sensation of little digits stimulating the highly receptive nerve wires making the purple warrior love him all the more. He pressed his fingers into transformation seams in his chest, slowly and softly moving them out of the way and transforming Cyclonus’ chest right before his eyes. He let himself be changed and shaped, the cool hands moving warm plating away piece by piece sending shivers up his spine. He relished in the feeling.

Small servos hovered over his exposed spark, the cool air around them causing his chest to curl up towards Tailgate. He felt open, vulnerable. He needed someone right on top of him. Somewhere in the process Tailgate had lowered Cyclonus onto his back and was now currently sitting on his abdominal plating. Removing his sword somewhere in there too.

Cyclonus saw how his hip joints exposed as his legs splayed out to either side, and yet, he was still too far away. He needed him closer. He needed  **him** .

Tailgate moved his hands from around the small of his back and up to his own chest, waiting patiently for Cyclonus to do the same to him.  pressed the pads of his digits into the plating carefully, feeling every seam and gap in his armour. Tailgate let out a quiet groan of pleasure as the mech beneath him stroked deep cables in his shoulders and hips.

There were no words spoken, just movement and emotion as Cyclonus worked his digits into seams. He moved back plate after plate, unfurling Tailgates chest like a flower, the plating sitting idle at his sides as it slid back. When Tailgate was transformed fully Cyclonus took his hands back to look at his handiwork, the minibot presented before him like an art display. The blue light of his spark blanketed over his frame. He could feel every heat wave, every subtle flicker and tug of his conjunx. 

Tailgate looked enamored by what was inside Cyclonus’ chest. Hovering his hands just outside the minor energy field of his spark. He watched him as dipped his fingers in, heat burning through his arm as the energy bled into his systems. he saw Tailgates spark flare brighter. He curled into the touch with a groan, Tailgate’s fingers softly twisting and tugging at the field around his spark. 

He was being touched at the core of his being, and he  **_loved_ ** it.

The hand in his spark chamber pulled away and he moaned longingly, Tailgate taking his arm back as the newspark came into orbit.

He looked to find the sedated expression on the warrior’s face and with a small tug at his em field, he slowly reached his arms down to the berth and braced himself as he pressed against Cyclonus’ chest.

The heat and the intensity of the feeling made Cyclonus bark, reeling into the sting. His felt the roiling heat of pleasure in his shoulders as the sensation rolled over him, hiking his charge further up. Everything was hypersensitive. 

Tailgate pressed the chest plates that were at his sides against Cyclonus’ own, working their way in between them, moving them and stimulating them in a full body kiss. Cyclonus was floating in pure bliss. He moaned shakily, hands rattling at Tailgate’s sides.

“Cyclonus?” Tailgate said, pulling away, afraid that he had hurt him somehow.

“ **Hnnnnngh!** ” 

He let out a loud growl as he felt his spark ache painfully at the loss of contact. In a moment of heat he threw his arms around Tailgates back and slammed him back into his chest, squeezing him tightly to keep him there. His vision burst with stars and he groaned into Tailgate’s neck, locking his chest with Tailgate’s, intertwining their armor plates and pulling them tight against their frames, and then with a click, they were locked. Tailgate shivered. 

Their sparks orbited for forever in a second and then finally merged, Cyclonus optics squeezed shut as he moaned deep and loud into Tailgates shoulder. The heat and fullness of their combined chambers felt so  **_good_ ** . 

“ **_OhTailgate_ ** _ TailgateTailgateTailgate... _ ” he said muttering his name over and over again into his shoulder sweetly. He took a hand from around his back and brought it up to the back of his conjunx’s head, softly petting it. All Tailgate did was pant heavily into his audial, his legs shaking.

“Cyclonus…” Tailgate whispered into his shoulder, “Your eyes…”

Cyclonus looked up from Tailgates shoulder, his eyes burning white, panting and shaking heavily. His plating rattled against his frame.

“Tailgate… I…” his speech slurred, voice laced thickly with the hiss of static. He felt a burst of heat through his entire frame and he cried out, body arching off the berth and bringing the minibot with him. 

Tailgate yelped, throwing his hands around the warriors neck as Cyclonus flipped onto his knees and curled around the smaller frame beneath him. He held him crushingly tight, his arms locked around each of his sides and the pressure putting dents in his hood. 

His eyes were still wide open and burning a flaming white, almost illuminating the entire room as his jaw stayed locked open with nothing coming out. There was a click and then with a pop a screeching hiss of static blared painfully in Tailgate’s audials. It sounded like a siren it was so loud. Tailgate, in a moment of panic pressed his faceplate against Cyclonus open maw. 

The sound slowed to a stop as Tailgate pulled his conjunx’s helm to his face with strong servos. Cyclonus wasn't screaming out of pain, but rather out of unfiltered, unbridled joy that was spread over his entire sensory net, and just like that he overloaded with a final wave of heat and was knocked offline, bringing Tailgate with him.

His body fell limp over Tailgate’s frame, pinning him to the berth as his spark chamber unclamped from around Tailgate’s. Tailgate struggled for a moment before finding the right handing so that he could lay Cyclonus down without hurting him. As he was transforming his chest plates back Cyclonus woke up and stared up at the ceiling with half lidded optics. His vents hissed steam and he chuckled giddly in a haze.

Shaky servos reached out, tugging lightly at Tailgate’s shoulders. Cyclonus was  _ trying _ to pull him closer but lacked the energy to. He eventually gave up and after a few struggled tries to reset his vocaliser he spoke.

“ _ -fttttttz--ome here, _ ” he said, pulling his arms back and tapping a spot on the berth. He was feeling cuddly. Tailgate looked up to find him  **beaming** . He was smiling like no tomorrow and Tailgate laughed softly. He climbed into his arms, plugging him in as he had already fallen offline again. 

 

\---

 

The following few weeks were relatively quiet. Cyclonus rarely ever left the room and Tailgate would bring him energon and company as he needed. After a few days he had started to notice that his spinal struts would ache more often and his chest cavity was starting to bulge from the senticalico metalica. He needed to rest more often than not, and Ratchet had said that this would happen, but it was surprising either way. He remembered reading something on his datapad about how that during the war, mechs who got sparked would eventually die. As the sire and carrier couldn't keep up the regular spark merging and the newspark would absorb all the energy from the host and then fizzle out. It made him flinch at the thought and he was glad that the war was over and then all the more grateful that Tailgate had missed the war entirely. To have something like that happen to oneself is a horrible way to go if you asked him.

The times that he wasn't  _ lacking _ energy,he had  _ too much _ of it, and there was no

middle ground. He was either depleted, or he was overcharged. He found himself running hot and self service was one of his only options to relieve the strain of all that energy, as his methods for physical exertion weren’t exactly the safest. Hed pop the covers on his side ports and zap himself until his internal meter flickered into the green, a time consuming process as he’d usually just absorb the energy right back. It was a frustrating ordeal.

Right now he was lying down with a block placed under his back that was  _ supposed _ to help with the pain. It unfortunately did not. He sighed and tossed the oddly shaped metal slab off to the side, it made a strange organic wood like sound when it hit the ground. Almost as if it were made of something more hollow.  He stood up and stretched, his plating flaring out and boasting the large gaps in between his armour and protoform. He looked over and saw the datapad over on the bedside table and he considered calling Tailgate and then the thought occurred to him that maybe he should get out of the room for a little bit. He didn't need to be venting the same air over and over again after all. 

As he walked down the hallway he noticed his wings buzzed with the ache for moving wind and in an instant everything became too small. The walls seemed to close in on him slightly, but he could ignore it. At least for now. He pondered where to go, and he definitely did not want to go where there would be other people. He settled for the observation deck, the quiet atmosphere that usually was there brought a calm feeling to his processor.

He looked out the glass of the observation deck, the massive window encompassing his whole field of view. The hue of the stars filtered over his body and he felt like he was flying, despite the artificial gravity. He wondered what he would name their sparkling. Would it be a mech or a femme? A grounder or a flyer? The outcome would be uncertain, as it all depended on what form the bitlet took once it's spark was  **in** the birth metal and  **outside** cyclonus. Which wasn't for a while, or so he heard from Ratchet.

He described it in stages. First spark and living metal growth, then just spark growth, and then the two would merge and leave the carrier. During the second stage apparently some are able to communicate with the sparkling, being able to pick up on their neural waves. It would be a while until cyclonus hit that stage. The third stage was the quickest however, and frankly, the scariest.

If most carriers didn't die from their spark fading out, it was from this. It was said that your entire body locked stiff for up to days on end while the spark tried to fuse with the birth metal. Many mech die from overheating during this time. It made cyclonus shudder. The thought of trying to bring a new life into existence only to have the process snuff out two.

He tried not to let it get the best of him. the thought of how fragile his mortality was at the moment did nothing to ease his consciousness. He got a message from Tailgate and his plating flared, shocked at the unexpected buzz from his subspace. His brow furrowed. He took the datapad out, squinting at the letters. He swear he needed glasses.

‘where are you?’

He replied, placing the pad back into his subspace. A little while later he heard the familiar rumble of tailgates engine, the sound brought a smile to his face, small, but it was still there. 

“Hey cyclonus!” tailgate called out, the tch-ch-ch-ch-cht of his transformation cycle filling his audials as small pedes scampered his way. He sat down to meet tailgates eye level, beckoning him over with a pat to his lap as he came closer.

“Ok, so i have some good news, and some bad news.” he said, snuggling under cyclonus’ chin. cyclonus hummed inquiringly, resting his hands over Tailgates midsection.

“The good news is, i got chosen for a very important task by Rodimus!” tailgate said, resting his servos over Cyclonus’ 

“And…?” 

“...And the bad news is…” he paused, hesitating “That it's off ship… You’d have to come with me…” Tailgate said with a slight dip in his tone. Cyclonus chuffed a sigh.

“Is there any way they could have picked someone else?” he said, letting exhaustion and annoyance bleed into his voice.

“No, i'm the only one small enough to reach some of the areas we’ll be exploring, we’re searching for clues for the lost knights of cybertron. Rodimus seems to think there might be something on this planet that might help us. It's  **stupid** but i can't help it, captains orders y’know?” tailgate started rambling, fidgeting his digits together around cyclonus’ larger servos.

Cyclonus sighed, resting his chin against tailgates helm, curling his shoulders around the minibot. He purred his engine while flaring out his em field with discontent but he squoze tailgate’s hand in understanding.

“When are you being deployed?” he asked, he needed to know when to get everything together so he could make the journey prepared. He also was asking so he could steal his nerves for being around other mech. He’d gotten more and more self conscious about his situation over the past few orns. He didn't like how weak it made him feel. If you asked him he needed an extra layer of armor.

“In a few days. We’re to be docking with the planet tomorrow. See that little cluster of stars?” tailgate said, pointing out the window. Cyclonus hummed. 

“That's the solar system we’re headed towards. It's the fifth planet from the star. If you squint you can see it.” he said quietly, rubbing his other hand over cyclonus’ absentmindedly.

Cyclonus did look up from tailgates head just to see. It was a blue little speck next to some brighter ones, didn't look like anything special. He turned his focus back on to the minibot in his lap, which in his opinion, was a much better view. He wanted to enjoy this silence while he could, as the next few days would be more than eventful.


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exploring a planet is hard and time consuming, turns out! Cyclonus has time for self reflection and tailgate gets into a bit of trouble while he's gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while! I'm getting back into writing on the regular, but dates?? Dead lines? I don't know her, sorry. Hope y'all enjoy this one, I think it's much better written than my previous chapters and I'm really proud of how it turned out so :D

The gravity on this planet was lower than he expected. As he left the field of the lost light with Tailgate he felt his struts depressurize with little pops and clicks. The humidity however, was  **dense** . He might as well be submerged in water. He could practically  _ feel _ the rust starting to form. As their expedition crew of 18  _ (ugh) _ set off in their direction his tanks grew weary of the interactions that'd he'd have to endure. He let Tailgate go first, carrying his trailer like a tote bag before transforming, letting it click into place and revving away. Cyclonus got a running start and transformed. The wind on his wings felt  _ amazing _ . Flying hadn't made him this happy for decades. He had to fly low however so the ground team could keep track of him, that part he didn't like. He  _ did,  _ however, allow himself a big loop around the ship as he picked up speed, going so fast. it made him feel better. He was one out of 2 fliers on this mission, meaning if anything happened to the other he would be put to work. The other flyer was Brainstorm. Meaning that they were more than likely to blow up a crew member than to actually find anything.

 As his systems adjusted to the lower gravity and his flying ever so slightly shifted to be more cost efficient he began to take in the landscape. He could tell that this was once a metal like planet, similar to cybertron. But time, as usual had taken its course and the planet was now overrun with organic materials. Mud and lush forests blanketed the surface like oceans. Most of the ground was either brown or red with rust, what he could see of it. He could see why the flora grew so well here, and so tall, with all the iron their systems. His engines stalled as Tailgate and the others disappeared underneath the canopy and he and Brainstorm flew overhead.

: You alright Cyclonus? : Brainstorm said, noticing his lull. He pushed out his em field with an affirmative pulse and kept flying. He could hear the rumble of Tailgates engine from above and he followed it subconsciously, keeping his pace in time with the echoing revs. After flying for what felt like seconds to Cyclonus,  they happened upon an old cybertronian temple, barely visible through the trees as it was almost completely overrun with flora. He heard the ground team stop and he circled overhead. There was no clear landing plot here. He got a com from Brainstorm.

: on my map it shows an open area up ahead, I'll send you the coordinates. :

Cyclonus received a message and he followed him, traveling for a while. The landing they came upon was covered in red dust. Rust. His engines buffeted up tons of the stuff as he landed, getting into every seam. As he transformed he puffed out his armor trying to keep the stuff out as it settled, hoping that if he left everything open it wouldn't stick. Bad idea. He had forgotten about the humidity, which had positively charged his entire frame and made it stick to him even worse. In between his armour seams too.

The cloud settled and Brainstorm was standing right behind him, which startled him. Brainstorm nodded his head and started walking off in the direction of the other group, Cyclonus followed.

 

 “So-”

“- **Don't** .” Cyclonus cut Brainstorm off. He wasn't in the mood for anyone being nosy. Brainstorm got a look of surprise and quickly shook his head.

“No, no! it's not that, I just wanted to ask a question, that's all.” He backpedaled. Cyclonus hummed.

“How are you feeling, I read that when fliers that are carrying fly they can lose a substantial amount of energon flow to their limbs, are your digits numb? Your pedes? Your wings?”

Brainstorm made a motion to reach towards his shoulder and he jerked it away at the last second, as he hadn’t seen him before. It was none of his business really, Cyclonus' frame was his own issue to deal with, but now that he mentioned it, his optics did seem to have a sort of invisible film behind them, like a weight was lifted off of his neck. He took a deep invent and it got worse.

“I feel dizzy,” he stated simply. It was nothing big though. It would pass. 

Brainstorm looked worried.

“Here, take this,” he said, taking energon out of his subspace, handing it towards him. As much as he hated taking other people's hospitality, he knew he needed it. 

The flora here was absolutely massive. The trees alone were large enough to make some mech look like just a speck in the wind, with trunks bigger than what 20 could fit their arms around. He took a moment to study the bark, the rifts in between the ridges looked like they were ribbed apart all the way up the tree, the bark itself relatively smooth. It was like the tree itself was split as it grew. 

He was so focused that he nearly didn't see the mechs up ahead of him. Granted, they were all as red stained as he was.

"Cyclonus!" He heard a familiar voice call out. He smiled.

"Tailgate." He responded, reaching a hand out to touch his sparkmate's hood. It helped him ground himself, bring him back to the moment, and in this moment he was with Tailgate. 

"How are you?" Cyclonus asked, seating himself down next to him, putting his longsword in his lap.

"Red, dirty, aaand about to get shoved into any and every hole on this planet. And you?" Tailgate sighed. Cyclonus chuckled. 

"Missing you already," he said, pulling him into a kiss with a servo on his hood, small enough to go unnoticed. It was Tailgates turn to laugh now.

"Yeah well, I shouldn't be gone for long, there's a time limit for how long they get to keep me." He said. Just as Tailgate did, Rodimus whistled loudly, a long, sharp, FWEEEEEEE- sound that honestly, sounded like in jet engines directly overhead, getting the attention of everyone. The noise startled him more than he thought it should've. He jolted at the sound and- well-  _ he latched on to Tailgate _ . Luckily there was no one to see it as the noise had snagged their attention as well. 

Rodimus went on about the mission and what they were doing, he wasn't listening. Tailgate had felt the jolt of fear inside Cyclonus and in a moment of reciprocation, had taken and wedged himself under Cyclonus' chin, wrapping his arms around his back tightly. He was probably frightened too, but the problem was that the sudden contact to his chest caused his spark chamber to initiate its interface state. He had to override several systems just to get his chest plates to stop their transformation cycle.

Mortified and unnerved, he quietly let Tailgate know with a few taps to his hood. Tailgate scrambled, sending out pulses with his EM field, asking if he was alright, sending his feelings of sorry as well, there was a hint of humor in there to, but just from their situation and not from sarcasm. Cyclonus was indeed ok, and he told Tailgate so, but he was left worried about the condition of his frame, if he was this- dare he say-  _ needy _ , then the rest of this expedition did not look promising. 

Not promising at all.

With a wistful sigh, and a longing look back, Tailgate was off with the others. Cyclonus suddenly felt empty. He would be back soon, it was fine. 

He found a spot to rest his back against, the crook of the nearest tree did nicely. It cradled his shoulders and head. He started his process of meditation, setting his sword on his lap and resting his hands on his thighs, counting down from the highest number that happened to pop in his head, reaching zero, rinse and repeat. He did this until the numbers lost their meaning, and he sat in silence with himself, his sub system self. He came face to face with the mech who was the underlying reason that he- was  _ him _ .

He rather intimately knew this subscript of a being,

They met often.

But it never failed to amaze Cyclonus that in all his time they spent together, he always would learn something  **new** about himself. Every Single Time. 

After all, self reflection **_was_** his favorite pastime. And then… not so much. He had his demons, the likes of which he _also..._ knew rather intimately. **They** decided when they would meet, not him. He was always plagued. They lingered in the macabre, in the frightening, whenever he offlined his optics there they were. The grotesque and grim face of every mech he'd ever had the displeasure of removing from this existence, burned into the fronts of his optics. Every set of hands from every innocent mech he negligently ended, all grabbing at him. From around the bottom of corners in long hallwaysc, through cracked door frames, underneath chairs and once even in his drink at swerves. That's when he realized he probably shouldn't contemplate and get wasted at the same time, several damage/repair payments later clearly showed him.

They  _ latched onto him _ . They pried under his plating. Spindly things. Whispering to him-  _ showing him- _ giving him proof that he was a monster, a menace, not worthy of anything, least of all  _ love, _ and- he believed them… Sometimes. He was working at it.

 They were at their worse at night, when nothing but him and his thoughts got to dance together. There they were, clawing and charging at him, through his cabling and under his plating. There were sides of him he'd rather not be seen. He had no other option but to fight, and so he did, not knowing any other method of sanity. If he didn't… one day he might wake up broken, or dead, they'd have their way with him. He was afraid he'd wake up one day and not be  _ himself _ anymore. He would simply cease, he didn't know what would take his place, but he  _ knew _ that he  _ didn't _ want it there.

 Those were his nightmares.

But for everything he had now, he refused to let them go. It was always a steadfast reminder, a set rule, a fragging jackshit waste of memory space, but he wouldn't trade it for the world. He thought about all the mech that he killed every day, he kept them on the edge of his mind, as a way to remind himself that he was better than that now. Never again. Never would he let that side of himself win by being forgotten. If he forgot, then all those mech died for  **nothing** . He paid his respect towards their lost souls, and his own. He felt obligated. It was the least he could do.

They were whispering to him now, tugging on his subconscious. He kept his optics closed. Every once in a while he got the feeling that something was around him, dangerously close. He ever so carefully inched a digit towards the hilt of his sword, drawing on it for strength. He felt imaginary hands on his chest. Through the whispers he could hear only glimpses.

_ -You don't deserve this-... -you shouldn't have it-.... -you'll kill it-... _

A sudden sense of the newspark incubating inside his chest flashed through his mind. He pleaded internally.

_ -why should you? You're horrible-... -you're a killer-...  -it won't love you- _

He told them to stop.

- _ you're going to kill it-.... -Tailgate will hate you-... -let us  _ **_take it_ ** … Cyclonus felt fingers digging into his chest, cold and icy, reaching for his spark, no, actively  _ clawing _ for it.

" **NO!** " He bared his teeth and flung himself up, opening his eyes wide into the dark. He held his sword with shaking hands, swinging his helm back and forth frantically. He pressed his back hard against the tree. The light of the stars were the only thing illuminating his surroundings.

No one was there.

He breathed a shaky sigh, and  **cried,** sinking down to the earth, pressing the heels of his palms into his eye sockets. His sword fell with the rough shnnkt of it scraping through the dirt. 

His chest hurt. He hoped Tailgate would come back soon.

 

He fell into a restless sleep, not much unlike the meditative state he had been in.

He woke up to a worried voice, and a dull pain, growing ever sharper and persistent in the bottom of his throat. 

"Cyclonus?!" 

He blinked.

"...-Tailgate?"

Tailgate pressed his forehelm against his, his visor bubbling around the edges. He noticed movement in the outskirts of his vision. There was an artificial light source now. 

He hugged Tailgate back, and to his surprise his chest unfurled in tandem with Tailgates, locking together before he could stop them. A bright pain hit him and he gasped, as if he hadn't seen a breath of air In years. His chest flooded with energy. The newspark had been leeching off of him. Tailgate winced. He felt it too.

"Oh Cyc…" he said softly, running a thumb across his cheek

"Little one, I-"

"You should've called me," he pulled his head back and held Cyclonus' face with both hands. "We would have come back sooner."

_ We… _

He looked around and froze. Tailgate waved his hand, looking over his shoulder; he was shooing them off. Cyclonus watched Rodimus as he put his communicator back into his subspace and walked away. His face had something akin to worry on it. He couldn't tell.

The light faded as they walked away, taking the lantern with them. 

And just like that, they were left to their own selves, the bright blue light from Tailgate's visor was much stronger than the red from Cyclonus' optics.

"Here," Tailgate muttered. He pulled the hardline interfacing cable from his side panel, handing It to Cyclonus. His optics darted from his visor to the cable then back

"Tailgate, I don't think we-"

"Cyclonus." Tailgate added, softly, but firmly. Only then did he realize how heavy his arm was when he lifted it. He wilted a fraction and opened his side ports, sighing only a little when it was plugged in. He was tired.

"How was your search?" he mumbled into Tailgates shoulder.

Tailgate pulled back. Cyclonus now noticed the scuffs all over his frame, His shoulders, his hood. It looked like he took a tumble.

"Do you really want to know?" 

"Of course," he paused. Tailgate sighed

"I fell Into a ravine. The same ravine. Twice." 

Cyclonus winced, moving his hands up to try and soothe the painful looking dents and scrapes.

"I'm glad you were able to make it back," Cyclonus said with a wary glance over a particularly damaged edge of his shoulder. A little bit of energon was dried up in the wound, mixed with rust it could lead to an infection.

"Yeah, with no help from  **them** ," Tailgate grumbled. " _ Not even a rope! _ " He hissed angrily. Cyclonus frowned.

"They didn't help?" He asked to clarify

" **No** ." Tailgate pouted. Crossing his arms and pulling his head down into his collar. Some said it looked cute when he pouted. Cyclonus contemplated for a moment, anger roiling up and then simmering in his tanks. They disconnected with a small shhhhnkt of their chest plates sliding out from in between each other.

"Well, first things first, let's get you cleaned up, shall we?" Cyclonus asked. Tailgate looked at him with surprise, the only remnants of his tired, angry look were left to fizzle away in the corners of his eyes.

"Yeah," Tailgate said softly. "I'd like that."

Inside Tailgates trailer, along with the energon, he had also packed cleaning tools, and Cyclonus had brought a small first aid kit with him in his subspace. He was glad for both of them at the moment. 

"We'll need your trailer," Cyclonus said. Tailgate stood up fast and then corrected himself as he realized he and Cyclonus were still attached by the cable. Tailgate had been feeding him a slow, but constant supply of energy instead of the hard bursts he usually gave, which Cyclonus took. He needed it.

 They walked past the rest of the group, all around one lantern, bright, albeit, but all of them just sitting around talking, laughing, the light cast by the yellow tube of glass causing them to look odd from its angle. He thought about scolding them internally. That brought a little bit of satisfaction.

Tailgate trotted over to a boulder, pulling the still attached Cyclonus behind him. Cyclonus paused, confused, and then took a small step back as Tailgate lifted it one handed and grabbed his trailer from underneath. It was hollow. Just a shell that he put on top of his stuff.

"Neat right? Brainstorm made it," Tailgate said, setting it back down. Figured. Cyclonus smiled. 

"It certainly is." He put a hand on Tailgates hood.

 

"Ouch." Tailgate winced. Cyclonus was trying his best to be as gentle as he could. Tailgate was in his lap facing him, and he was trying to clean all the rust out of his wounds. They had found a tree with a large cavern inside of it, seemingly rotted into the wood. It still stood tall, so they bunkered down. 

Cyclonus ran a rag covered in solvent thoroughly through the dent on his shoulder, scraping away red clumps of rust and debris. He knocked away some of the dried energon and caused a fresh bleed to start. There was a chunk of organic matter lodged in the dent.

"Tailgate, you've been impaled." Cyclonus said, slowly, thinking if he talked any faster it might have hurt him.

"I have???"  He whipped around panicked, trying to inspect it. 

"Shhhhhh, little one, it's alright. It doesn't look to be more than a sharp branch. I think I've got it." Cyclonus said. He grabbed the tweezers and- there was a wrenching sound as Tailgate stiffened and squeezed his hand, accompanied with a sharp inhale. 

"Tailgate are you alright?" He asked. Tailgate squeaked in response. He spotted the glowing pink trickle of energon and he pressed his hand against it.

"Cy, I... -I don't think that was small," he said, squeezing his hand tighter. Cyclonus put down the tweezers in search for the metal patches. 

"Hold on to me, brace yourself. " Cyclonus said, leaning Tailgate back so his back was against the ground. 

"This may sting, I'm sorry."

And with that he took his hand away and pressed the metal patch down, quickly pushing in tacks with his thumb at all corners, riveting it. 

Tailgate surged up off the ground with a whine, trying to curl his body into a ball around his hurt.

"Shhhh, I've got you," Cyclonus soothed the patch with his hand, rubbing small circles into the surrounding metal.

“Thank you,” Tailgate said, worrying with the joints in Cyclonus’ hand now. He must have noticed it creaking under his grip. Cyclonus eyed him suspiciously.

“Is there anything else bothering you?” he asked, tone wary. Tailgates visor widened.

“Oh no i'm fine! Really!”

Cyclonus didn't buy it. Tailgate did that thing where he flashed his biolights in time with his words whenever he was lying. He lifted his brow and opened his optics wide. He was aware of the effect his prolonged gaze had on few. Tailgate squirmed under him before giving up

“Ok, ok! Fine! There is a  _ small _ something lodged in my hip- But it's nothing! It doesn't even hurt! I'm fine, you don't have to worry about me anymore!”

Cyclonus shook his head no.

“Show me.” he said. Tailgate wilted, but obliged. He went to flip himself and faltered when he had to put weight on his arm. Cyclonus flipped him himself.

“ _ Where is it _ ?”

“Somewhere around  _ here _ ” tailgate reached around and pointed to his right hip. Within moments Cyclonus had located the issue. A pebble stuck in the joint. He removed it and Tailgate let out a soft sigh. It must've been grinding around in there for who knows how long.

"And?" Cyclonus asked.

"And... I think there's a branch stuck in my hood, but that's it! For real this time," 

Cyclonus could tell that he meant it. He reached up in his hood and his fingers found the offender. He grabbed it and pulled, but it wouldn't budge. He pulled harder and still nothing. He braced one hand on the edge of Tailgate's hood and pulled as hard as he could without hurting him and there was a horrible scraping sound. The branch came out bare of all its leaves. He spent the next few hours meticulously picking out every piece that he could manage to, and by the end of it Tailgate had fallen asleep. Cyclonus smiled. 

He gathered him in his arms and rested him against his chest right over his spark chamber, and revealed in that feeling of security. Tailgate was with him.  They fell asleep holding each other.


End file.
